


7 Year Promise

by hollowmagic



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Promises, Childhood Memories, Crying, Cuccos (Legend of Zelda), F/M, Farm/Ranch, Feelings, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Hurt Link, I Love You, Laughter, Love, Memories, Ocarina of Time, Post-Ocarina of Time, Promises, Sad with a Happy Ending, Singing, Southern accents, Timeskip, heartbroken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowmagic/pseuds/hollowmagic
Summary: Malon gets a visit from an old face.
Relationships: Link & Malon, Link/Malon (Legend of Zelda), Malon & Ingo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	7 Year Promise

**Author's Note:**

> ...  
> In which Link visits Malon before going back to his time.

"Whew!"

Malon swipes the drops of sweat rolling down her temple. The ranch has never looked better. Sales of Lon Lon Milk have skyrocketed, thanks to the mysterious advertisement set up in Castle Town. Malon never recalls putting up such a sign…

Lon Lon Ranch's harvest season was coming to a close, thus Malon has been working her behind harder than ever before. Her father, Talon, had been welcomed back into the ranch ever since the downfall of Hyrule's tyrant, Ganondorf. Since that day, Malon's attitude toward the old farmer and the ranch itself grew twice its size. She promised to never slack off again.

Setting her sickle aside, Malon shields her eyes to check the position of the sun. All is silent before a small cucco totters up to the girl and abruptly flaps its wings, clucking like there is no tomorrow. It was not long before Malon finds herself surrounded by an army of beady-eyed cuccos, the guttural ruckus coming from every which way. Nearby horses nicker and flee, a wild crescendo of painful, brooding _moos_ following. A _crash_ of ceramic sends the remaining cockerels into a riotous frenzy.

Have these fowls gone _mad?!_

"Ingo!" Malon hollers. "We got us a buncha _flockers!"_

As if on cue, a boot kicks open the wooden door of the stable. There comes Ingo, a tall, middle-aged man with a notable mustache and overalls, taking two wide strides to make his presence known. In his right hand, he possesses a broom. He glares disdainfully at the mob, taking two extra glances both left and right. Despite his appearance, there is an adorable rosy shade of pink on his cheeks.

"Alright now," he says. "Which one-a y'all started it this time?!"

There is a muted hush among the crowd of cuccos, the silence beckoning their heads toward Ingo. At their rear, Malon arms herself with the handle of a pitchfork. The two humans share an auspicious glance and heedfully tread to block any escape routes. Appearing to be plotting amongst themselves, the cuccos ready their stances and flutter their wings.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," says Ingo. "Fess up now 'n you cluckers will get an extra feeding!"

The cuccos jeer in response.

Malon smirks, "Hear that? They ain't snitchin'."

"Yeah, I thought so. Let's get this over with."

For a brief moment, there is silence.

Then, there is chaos.

A pack of cuccos storm Ingo, clucking wildly and pecking at him with fierce malice in their eyes. Using the broom-head to defend himself, Ingo does not dare falter. He belts the ground and withstands the painful stabbing of beaks in his legs. Gradually, one by one, the animals are shoved into the pen. Malon has a somewhat greater advantage, the cuccos warily backing away each time the farm girl threatens the pitchfork at them. A few cuccos with iron backbones face the girl up front, jumping at her and spreading their large wings to intimidate her. She twinges at the feeling of tiny knives in her shin.

"Oh, y’all pay for that!"  
  
She lunges the tool forward and the iron backbones scatter. Relishing in that pride of hers, Malon refuses to be beset by these fowls. One by one, Ingo shoos them into the pen and delivers a haughty cheer to Malon. The farm girl nods, bringing her fingers to her mouth and tweeting a high-pitched whistle.

A moment of hesitation spreads throughout the farm like light itself. Even the cuccos know what that sound means. The signal is answered and a distant _neigh_ reaches their ears, a large and gallant stallion charging in the mob's direction. A hen screeches a call and the cuccos quickly retreat into the pen, the last of them getting booted inside. With that, the pen door is slammed, and the humans declare their victory.

"That'll teach 'em!" Ingo says, a satisfactory grin on his face. "Good work, Miss Malon."

Malon beams. "It's like they got a grudge against us. Wonder why." She turns to the lingering horse and strokes it's mane, praising and thanking it for its assistance. She will be sure to remember to let him scoff down a couple veggies as a reward. The two farmers work to clean up the mess of feathers that litter the ground, stuffing them into old sacks once used for grain. Ingo can already conjure up the amount of dosh that will soon be in his wallet from pillow stuffing sales.

Finally, Malon shoves the last feather into the keepsake. Stretching, groaning, the girl hands the loot to Ingo and watches him store them in the corner of the stable. Cattle and rams look pleased to see them. Perhaps they, too, had been rattled by the uncalled for riot?

"Miss Malon?"

"Yes, Ingo?" the girl looks to him as she feeds her helping stallion.

The man scratches his neck bashfully, subtly gesturing to Malon's leg. "Your leg, it, uh—"

Following his eyes, Malon averts hers to the problem. There she finds a red stain growing on her milky gown, a crimson streak trailing further into her boots. She had not even realized such a wound was present!

"Eh, I'll take care of it. It ain't even hurtin' that badly."

Ingo shows a face of concern, "You positive? Any longer an' you be needing a new frock…"

"I'll clean it out before it stains! No need to get in tenterhooks!"

"R-right, right. You know best."

The farm girl nods, mentally preparing for how she will fix her bloodied leg. Her stallion at her side nickers, indicating its satisfaction. Ingo tells her to go inside, get fixed up, he will do the rest, and Malon bids goodnight to the man. He hopes she dreams of sweets and joy.

Malon enters her home and kicks off her boots, and that is when she discovers the madness dwelling within her own residence.

An army of cuccos — destroying the place!

There are feathers everywhere, in every nook and cranny, cuccos clucking like mad and crowding her like she is their ringleader. A flood of white! Pots have been smashed, the ice box has been raided, eggs litter the floor! A flood madness, right in her own accomodation! The girl shields her face, yelping when a hen flaps its wings to greet the poor soul.

Yet she will not be beset by cowardice, "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Have y'all been the meaning behind those flockers?"

Mass silence follows.

"Ahhh, what can I do?" she shrugs, shaking her head to appear bummed out, "Y'all have hated me for a while, I assume? Y'all even got me bleedin'...I don't get what's been riling y'all up, but if I really am a bother…" her hand slyly grabs the knob of the door, "then I suppose I best be on my own…"

Just like that, the mass silence shatters and a wail of cries echo throughout the land. Every cucco in the room suddenly rush to the exit and block Malon from going through. Baby chicks grab the hem of her gown with their beaks and yank her back to the center of the room, large hens spread their wings to prevent her from departing, cuccos surround her and even nuzzle their heads against her boots.

_We are sorry, please don't leave, we love you!_

Malon breaks out into a valley of smiles. Collapsing to the floor, she gathers a group of cuccos in her arms and embraces them. "As if!" she giggles. "As if I could leave y'all! There ain't no other place I belong!"

The fuss dies out as the animals seem to sigh in relief.

"That's right," Malon mumbles, petting a cucco, "there ain't anywhere I could go. I gotta help Papa and Ingo, sell our products, care for y'all...I don't got time for happy travels."

She recalls, as a child, Malon would happily skip off to Castle Town to play with the other kids. Remembering Ingo and his irate face sent her into a fit of giggles. Work around the farm was less harsh than it is, but more work means more sales, and that is all that matters to her now. The Bazaar and Shooting Range were a blast, she minds, recollecting the events that led up to Ingo's fit of rage when she returned with a toy mouse that explodes.

Those happy, nostalgic times...Malon will never forget them. She especially will never forget the day her father got an order from the Royal Family for two whole crates of their Lon Lon Milk. She'd been wandering the town at her leisure, singing for all to enjoy. That very day was also the first time she met that nice fairy b—

…

..Oh, right...he...

" _Ooooh, pretty ocarina! Hey! Play it while I sing! Let's be a band!"_

_He flinches back when she reaches for it, a look of suspicion across his features. The ocarina he bears is biscuit brown, a glimmering, triangular emerald on the base of the windpipe. The hole looks as if they have been carved from sticks._

_Malon retracts her outstretched arms, "Oh...sorry. How about I teach ya my song instead? I hope ya like it, my Mama sang it to me before — before she...bit the dust."_

_The boy in green nods respectfully and listens to her tune. Malon's cheeks face the heat of embarrassment, such attention from a stranger seeming strangely discomforting. The girl tries to subside her ignominy to the best of her ability. When her ditty comes to an end and Malon opens her eyes, there she faces a crowd of familiar friendly faces — the horses — and the boy in green sitting cross-legged on the grass, applauding her._

_Malon tentatively takes a bow. The discomfort abruptly turns into exuberance; she feels as if she can do anything!_

_The friendly boy in green gingerly takes hold of his instrument and plays the notes needed for the tune. Malon tries to help by indicating which note she likes the best, until finally, Malon's song is reimagined on his ocarina. It plays as sweet as her voice, charming the lands like magic._

_A sudden whinny interrupts their beautiful orchestra. The children turn their eyes, meeting the happy foal jumping for joy. "Heehee! Epona likes it, too!" says Malon._

_She has never had this much fun with anybody before. Tag, hide 'n seek, red light green light, charades, all sorts of games were played that night. Malon never even minded how much time had gone by. There was nothing she wished for other than that night to last forever, to play with that boy for eternity. He was fun, he listened to her songs, Malon enjoyed talking to him (despite him not uttering a syllable), and he even requested multiple refills of Lon Lon Milk. Like no one else existed, it was just the two of them._

_Until, eventually..._

" _Eh? Ya gotta go? Already…? But, ya just got here!" Malon whines. It has been far beyond a couple hours since his arrival._

_The boy himself looks disheartened as well, his head dipping to his chest, brows pinching up in an arch. He nods sadly._

_Malon, for the first time, feels desperate for him to stay. "Aww...okay...but, can ya come back tomorrow? Puh-leaze? I wanna play a lil' more!"_

_His simple smile of hope was the only thing she needed for his confirmation. She cheers and says she hopes to see him soon, but it would be okay for him to come late, like he did today._

" _Ya better show up! Or else I'll never forgive ya! Promise me y'all come back!"_

_Malon and the fairy boy separated with a hug._

_The next day progressed slower than any other. The farm girl felt as if her anxiety would best her in this battle between time, checking the clock every few minutes and whining when only two have passed. An entire year could have passed by the time the sun sets and the moon rises high. Malon readied herself as best as she could — brushing her hair, ironing her gown, hiding the imperfections on her face with her mother's old makeup kit, and even tuning her own voice in preparation for his arrival._

_Still, she hated it when Papa would tease her about marrying that nice boy. A hard blush would cross her cheeks and she would find herself worrying over her appearance._ Yer just like yer mother, _her father had said. Malon paid no mind — the phrase flew over her head like a gust of wind._

_There Malon stood in the field with horses grazing. Ingo and Talon are fast asleep, Epona is hyper, there is a nice breeze...it reminds her of the setting from her mother's first date—_

_Gah, no! This is no such thing! A mere playdate is all it is!_

_Time flows like a river. She yawns as she stands, waiting for him to return. To see him after a whole day, she could not imagine having to wait two! A lifetime could have passed before night fell. Too soon did the warm breeze transform into a shivering chill, the hours ticking by much too quickly. Once more, the anxiety begins getting the best of her. When will he arrive? Is he coming? Did he forget? Was yesterday all but a dream?_

_A dream…_

_If she thinks pragmatically, the theory of a dream does not sound entirely false. Meeting someone at the brink of midnight and playing games_ does _sound too good to be true. Yet she remembers the events so clearly — right in her eyes she can see her midnight recital! There is no way it was a fallacy!_

_All will be fine, she thinks, he is merely running late. So what if he is an hour or two late? Malon will wait until the end of time for him to return! Surely he will come! He promised her, no?_

" _He'll come…" Malon mutters to no one in particular. Epona nuzzles her at her side, and even then Malon dare not move from this spot. As they say, the night is still young! There is plenty of time for him to arrive. "Fairy boy, where are ya...?"_

… _._

" _M-Malon!"_

_Her eyes droop as she wobbles on her own two feet. The poetic whoosh of the wind clogs her ears, a ringing too loud for her to hear. At her side lay Epona, sleeping soundly on the soft grass beneath their feet. The girl's fingers, numb-stiff, jitter from the cold._

_Talon immediately rushes to his daughter's side and brings her into an embrace, "Oh, dear, Malon, what's gotten into ya?! I couldn't find ya and there Ingo was tellin' me ya gone and pulled an all-nighter!"_

" _Papa…"_

_Somber, forlorn, desolate…_

_Those were the only words that could properly describe the girl's voice._

" _Malon, what in tarnation? W-wait, don't cry!" Talon panics at the sight of tears drooling down his daughter's face._

_She sniffles, "..He didn't come back…! He—" she absolutely collapses and sobs her tired eyes into her hands, "—he said he'd come back! I-I been waiting all night, h-he lied to me…! I just wanted to play some more! Why—?" she inhales sharply, succumbing to her broken heart and hugs her father back, sullying his clothes with her tears. Her wails are loud and unpleasant, enough to get Ingo's attention, whose attitude seems oddly subdued after the sight of little Malon crying harder than any child he has come across._

_For the first time in her life, at the young age of nine, Malon has discovered the tortuous turmoil of heartbreak._

  
  
..That's right...that boy, he...betrayed her. Malon frowns at the memory. Each cucco in the room take their turn nuzzling the girl, letting her sulk in her memories as they frolic. The solemn gleam in her eyes turn her mood sour. Despite the racking beat in her chest, Malon stands, nearly falling back down when a sudden pain in her leg surges through her nerves. Curses...she had entirely forgotten about that wound.

Night falls, and the three farmers wish each other sweet dreams. In bed Malon rubs her bandaged leg. Tossing, turning, she is unable to stop herself from reminiscing that day she met the fairy boy. It was so long ago...so, so long ago. Over the years, up to this moment in time, the girl finds that she cannot even recall the boy's name...nor his face. What color was his hair? His eyes? The shape of his nose? All that remains is the sole image of his ocarina. Beautifully painted, fabricated from the depths of the forest.

No good...there is no way she can sleep like this.

A swift midnight visit to the horses should not be a problem, no?

Briskly, silently, Malon stalks through her house in her floral, salmon-pink pajamas. Downstairs is devoid of any sign of life, both human and cucco alike. Crickets greet her outside. Tonight has a vague chill, a characteristic sign of a good harvest season. In her bare feet she strolls past the cucco pen, beyond the cattle and rams, and finally, is greeted by her bestest friends at the horse track.

Shoot...it feels...too barren. Barren and blank without the presence of Malon's first friend.

_Epona…_

She is not here anymore. She has been gone for several days now. Ingo had given her away, without Malon's supervision. Some lucky lad came and took the horse away, and yet ever since that day, Ingo had started acting suspiciously kind to Malon and her father. As time passed, as work became harder, Malon attempted not to relive the horror she was forced to bear.

Her gallant stallion drowsily neighs at her. Smiling, Malon pets the tired beast. "How've ya been? Tired? Me too, I can't sleep," she tells him. The stallion closes its eyes under her hand.

She turns her gaze to the lovely moon above. Luminating the field, the girl clasps her hands together and flutters her eyes shut. Why had today been so nostalgic? What in Hylia's name gave her the idea to sing? She remembers doing this all the time as a child, singing late into the night, Epona at her side, a mysterious audience of animals suddenly around her... How she loved those times…

_She really...wishes they could never end._

Her voice flies into the night. Epona's Song flows from her vocal cords, tuning them to the right pitch, just as they always had when she sang this precious song. She must not stay out here for too long...another day of work lies ahead.

…

...

...

Such a lovely, nostalgic tune…

…

Behind her, there is applause.

_clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap—_

Malon whirls around—

…!

There is a young man there. He appears to be not much older, perhaps a mere year or two, with glittering, aqua eyes. Dressed fully in green, a brown belt, pointy ears, blonde, piercings, a _sword and shield,_ and a handsomely shaped nose.

..Does he not bear semblance to—?

…

...

"Oh," Malon breathes, "ya startled me. Sorry, but we ain't sellin' anythin' tonight. Best come by tomorrow mornin'."

The young man's face contorts into a mixture of ambiguous emotions. His brows arch, and he strangely looks as if he wants to say something. No words are said and he simply nods his head twice.

Malon tilts her head, "..Ya seem confuzzled. Are ya new to Hyrule?"

A head shake.

…"So ya ain't. ...I'm guessin' y'all liked my singin', yeah?"

A head nod.

The girl beams and puts on her kindest expression. "Well, that's mighty nice of ya! I haven't had another person enjoy my songs since I wuz a lil' runt runnin' 'round the castle square!"

A head tilt.

"Yea, I wuz a wild one. Don't got time for none of that, now. I gotta help out 'round here. Lemme tell ya, them cuccos be gettin' real rambunctious!"

Again, nothing but a slight head movement. Malon, discomforted by such awkwardness, tries to drag on the conversation as best as she can. He has yet to say something to her; a hello, a question, anything. Something seems awfully familiar about the way he is acting.

…

…"Might I ask why ya ain't speakin' to me?"

A shrug.

"Ya ain't a talker, eh...welp, nothin' I can do 'bout that. Here, c'mon inside where it's warm." Malon strolls past and gestures for him to follow. Welcoming him into the house, the girl flips the light switch and searches for the icebox. "Ya like milk? S'bout all we got."

At the table, he answers with a nod. His face shows caution as he scoots himself in and tries to set his manners right by folding his hands on the table. A minute later, he is handed a bottle of Lon Lon Milk. Immediately he uncorks it and takes a two huge swigs of the substance.

"I ain't even sittin' down yet and ya need a refill?!"

A _smile._

"Yeesh, ya be like a kid."

The two of them sit and enjoy their Lon Lon Milk in leisure, every so often Malon telling the other a story from when she was young. The story of Talon's exile, Ingo's rein, and even the situation with Ganondorf. Like a broken record, he would keep on nodding along to the story. Malon sees him as a great listener.

An hour passes, and Malon starts to ramble on about anything that is in her mind. "Yanno, this one time, as a kid, there wuz this runt who came 'round midnight. I don't really 'member much, but I've been thinkin' ya look a lot like 'em. Didn't say anythin' before cuz I wasn't sure. Anywho, the runt came 'ere with this lil' doohickey...ocarina, I think. He went and played my lil' ditty I been singin' out there."

The young man's face loses its smile as she goes on.

"So we played, like kids do, tag, and 'allatt. Guess what? I told 'em to come by the next day, and he gone and stood me up!"

His face goes pale.

"I dunno why I cried 'bout it, don't seem too much of a lather now. Oh—shoot, I been ramblin', haven't I? Bet ya can barely understand me, whoops."

His fingers intertwine nervously, eyes refusing to meet hers. He can hardly comprehend the sole fact that she doesn't even recognize his face. ...Just how badly was that night for her?

Looking at the clock, Malon rises, "Welp, I believe we're done here. Don't ya got some place to be? Ya look like ya came from the forest, or somethin'."

The young man abruptly stands up and stutters out a jumble of sounds— Malon stares at him as he fruitlessly attempts to form a coherent sentence. Somewhere in her brain she wonders if he had not been able to speak from the start.

"That's aight, boy," she says with a smile. "I like ya. Go on home. Here, I'll fill ya another one for the road." A moment later she hands him a full bottle of milk. "Whatever it be you needa say, it don't matter now. We're both tired, ain't we? Go on home and get some rest. Stop by tomorrow mornin' while you're at it, I ain't done tellin' ya stories."

Then is when the girl had never seen such sadness in another person's eyes. They trail down to the floor, hands squeezing the bottle so tightly it could shatter. Is he...ashamed?

…

…

"Can ya…" her grin falters, "...not come 'round?"

A forlorn head shake. He looks...sad.

And yet it looks so oddly familiar. These features of his face, the shape of his nose, the color of his hair, his ears, his outfit, all of it so painfully familiar. Is she missing something?

"Well...that alright. Whenever ya can, I'll be waitin'. Ya always be welcome 'ere in Lon Lon Ranch. Aight? See ya when ya can."

Solemnly he nods once more. Without warning, he embraces the girl, hugging her close and tight. It takes Malon by surprise, gasping in his grip and pressing her hands against his chest to push him away. The young man buries his face into her shoulder and pats her back— _it'll be okay—_

"O-okay then, we're huggin'.”

The hug lasts about a minute. Malon gingerly held him back to say goodbye, still puzzled about this confrontation. Usually customers were so open to her, complimenting her, telling her they will definitely be back again sometime. Yet, this young man is acting as if he will never see her again...perhaps he is a traveller, who has been through so much it had stolen his ability to speak? How long, Malon ponders, had it been since he had been in contact with another human?

It would definitely explain his speech deficiency...his outfit, not so much.

When he lets go, the young man can only smile so small. The farm girl says she enjoyed his visit, and hopes to see him once again another day. She watches him depart, strolling down the trail to Hyrule Field, bottle of milk in hand. Even an action as simple as that drags Malon back to an old memory that has been long forgotten.

_Mysterious…_

The situation comes to an end, Malon in pure shock at the sight of what time it is. She briskly stalks back inside her home and packs the milk away, heading for the s-

…

. _..Huh?_

There, on the dinner table, lays an awkwardly shaped instrument. An emerald on the base of the windpipe, the holes looking as if they had been carved from sticks, a biscuit brown color…

….

… _.!_

Malon snatches the item off the table, the truth of her encounter sinking in. Without a moment to spare she runs out of the house yelling, "Hold it!" and chases after the young man at her fastest. Down the path she stumbles and enters Hyrule Field. There, she sees nothing but grass as far as the eye can see. Not a single trace left behind.

"No…!" the girl mumbles, horror in her heart. "No, no, no, come back! Hey! Sir!" Nothing but the poetic whoosh of the wind is audible in her ears. "I-I remember ya now! I do! Fairy boy!"

….

….

Nothing.

"No…"

The tears well up.

"No, please, come back...I'm sorry. I wuz...I didn't think ya would ever…"

….

….

..What now? What can she do now? Go after him?...

She peers down at the ocarina in her hands. It feels and looks as if it had been created just a day prior. No marks, no scratches, even the emerald looks as shiny as it did that one fateful night. Vaguely, she recalls the notes for a special song. Is this...his parting gift…?..

"Fairy boy…"

Sunlight peeks over the horizon — she had pulled her second all-nighter.

…

 _She_ _smiles — hugs the ocarina in her arms—_

"Idiot...what are ya thinkin'...makin' a lady wait…"

The tears fall—

"I'll forgive ya, Fairy boy, just this once."

The ocarina is pressed to her mouth—

…

...

…

_Promise me y'all come back._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comment your opinions!
> 
> The first half of this story was inspired by the book “Animal Farm.”


End file.
